As Vulnerable As The Rain
by Mingamelon
Summary: Rainy days and boredom make America do strange things, such as playfully teasing 2pEngland when he knows the other is concentrating. When pushed to the edge of annoyance, Arthur decides to inflict some payback of his own. One-Shot, Knifeplay, 2pUK1pUS smut.


**Author's Note:** De-anoning from the Hetalia Kink Meme. The request- _I can see 2p!England with 1/2P! America for weapon/bloodplay?_

Someone actually _requesting_ 2pUK1pUS? Pinch me, I must be dreaming! *happy crackpair fangirl moment* I never would have guessed that my cracktastic pet pair would have been so warmly welcomed in Hetalia fanfic! Thank you!

Again I'll mention for clarity's sake that I call 2P England "Arthur". Writing "2P England" is too jarring and just plain 'ol "England" invokes the imagery of 1P England. So until I figure out a better way to project his name without confusion, Arthur it is!

I don't own Hetalia, America, or 2P England (credit to Beek and her Ask 2P England tumblr~).

* * *

Thunder crashed and rain pelted against the window America peered out of, his brow creasing in frustration as his shoulders slumped in defeat. He sighed, drawing back from the kitchen window, and checked on the cupcakes Arthur was baking for what seemed like the hundredth time, only to be greeted with a warm blast of air from the oven and the sight of steadily rising baked goods.

_Still not done._ _Artie's probably going to chew me out for screwing up the baking time so much._ America thought as he shut the oven door. _And on that note, where _is _Arthur?_ He hadn't seen the other nation since the treats were put in the oven in the first place. The American retraced his steps through the kitchen and living room, passing down a hallway, and poking his head into their shared room, a grin settling on his face as he found who he was looking for.

Perched on the edge of their bed was Arthur, Wiimote in hand, had a look of deep concentration on his face. He barely batted an eye when America entered the room, prompting the younger nation to heavily plop down next to the Englishman, knocking their shoulders together and forcing the Wiimote to slip out of Arthur's hands.

"Butterscotch!" Arthur cursed sharply as he made a mad dive for the controller. His light blue eyes went wide at the sound of an error and he flinched a bit as the titular Cooking Mama scolded his mistake.

"So you're cooking... while you're cooking." America stated blankly, an eyebrow raised.

"Well of course!" Arthur replied, his sight glued to the TV screen. "How else am I to pass the time?" He made a stirring motion with the Wiimote, trying to be as careful as he could.

America watched the other curiously before a mischievous smile spread across his face. He waited just until Arthur had really gotten into making his virtual cream puffs before jabbing him gently in the ribs with a finger.

The reaction was just as the American predicted- Arthur squirmed and his concentration was thrown. He was barely able to pass the level and gave his partner a sharp glance as the next one loaded. "See here, Alfred! As you're aware, I'm entertaining myself well enough to pass the time! Surely you can do the same!"

"Nah! This is way more fun than anything I could do on my own~" America said with a grin at his partner's frustration and aimed another strike for his side.

Arthur contorted his body awkwardly out of the way, narrowly missing the playful attack, and somehow managed to keep himself from losing points in the game.

_One more oughta do it._ America thought to himself with a sneaky grin. He knew he was being antagonizing to Arthur, but at the same time, that's where the _fun_ came in. America liked the risk taking, the knowledge that came with knowing that every taunt had the potential to push Arthur over the edge.

"Poke~" America said as his finger found the mark of Arthur's side.

It all happened so fast that both parties ended up winded by the end of the turn of events- the sound of a disappointed video game mother, Arthur growling lowly through firmly grit teeth, the Wii being shut off, and the normally pleasant Englishman tackling America on the bed, pinning him with a frightening surge of strength. Arthur's eyes swirled dangerously as he roughly pressed the Wiimote lengthwise against America's throat, causing the younger nation under him to swallow hard. Neither of them spoke for a minute or two, the seconds punctuated by the rain beating against the windows and the howl of the wind.

"Gonna have a tough time cutting me with something like that." America dared to grin at the nation straddling him. Most of the others wouldn't go so far to provoke the counterparts, but that's exactly what America wanted. He loved the _danger_, he loved the _risk_. No one else would handle him roughly, knowing fully well that he'd be able to call upon that inhuman strength of his to save himself, beating his assailant's ass in the process.

Which is exactly why America liked keeping the company of Arthur. When pushed over the edge, he had just the right amount of drive to attempt such things. "I suppose your right, love..." He murmured, tossing the Wiimote to the side and sending it clattering to the floor. Arthur turned his hand to the side and slipped it under the mattress, pulling it up slowly to reveal a knife, gleaming in the dim light of the room.

America looked from the knife to his partner, a smirk settling over his face. He opened his mouth for another goading taunt, but was cut off when Arthur pushed the flat side of the knife against his neck, stopping him from speaking.

"You've been a _very_ naughty boy, love...~" Arthur murmured, the swirling color in his eyes betraying the calmness of his voice. He angled the knife slightly and moved it lightly against America's neck, not enough to cut, but firm enough for the teeth to catch against his skin as it glided across the surface. "I wonder how I should go about punishing you?"

"I know you can think of _something_." America mimicked Arthur's tone and bucked his hips into the other nation, already half hard from the metallic chill against his skin. He arched his back, moaning softly as he felt the fabric of his shirt slide across his nipples.

Arthur's face split with a smile that would scare most, but only served to excite his partner further, and he felt the American beneath him shiver with anticipation. He moved one hand to pin America's down against the bed by the wrists, his other hand holding the knife jerking down suddenly to catch on the other's shirt, ripping down with uneven swipes.

"Let's see, let's see~" Arthur sing-songed, gently pushing the knife under one side of the shirt and pushing the fabric to the side, then repeating the action to expose America's chest. Seeing the other's skin revealed bit by bit added fuel to his desire and he teased the knife along a nipple, brushing the flat edge against the pert nub.

"F-Fuck... Arthur..." America jerked his head from side to side, the small, measured strokes making his breath short.

"Language, Alfred. Don't make me cut out your tongue while I'm at it." A dark edge had taken over Arthur's tone, and he lifted the knife, pressing it firmly against the corner of America's mouth to back up the threat, the teeth of the blade pricking at the soft skin. Almost at once, Arthur withdrew the knife and was quick to recover his melodious humming as he leaned down, capturing America's lips with his own in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Having played this game before, America knew not to relax fully, and anticipated the other's coming action. No sooner had he readied himself did he feel a flash of pain somewhere at his lower neck, just above the collarbone. He trusted Arthur enough not to cut him _too_ badly, but from the cool, wet sensation working its way across his skin, America could tell he was starting to bleed.

Arthur murmured something his partner wasn't able to hear, but it sounded lazy and lustful. He dipped his head down to run his tongue along the wound, lapping greedily at the dark red liquid beading up from the gash. Arthur straightened himself and licked his lips, his eyes glinting with the high of arousal. "You look _beautiful_, love..." He said, his tone laced with mischief.

America blinked hard, willing his eyes to focus on the other, and bucked his hips up again, grinning with satisfaction when Arthur gave a small start of surprise. "As amazing as this is, if you don't take care of what's going on down there, I'm going to jizz in my pants. And I get the feeling it's gonna add to the mood just like the Lonely Island thinks it does."

He wasn't completely sure he understood the joke, but Arthur complied nonetheless, letting go of America's wrists and setting the knife to the side as he settled between the younger nation's legs. Arthur abandoned his teasing pretense, quickly undoing the American's belt and pulling his pants open, lifting his head to catch the other's eye as he tapped a finger against a gathering wet spot on his boxers.

Arthur smirked and took the knife in his hand again, holding it as if it were a paintbrush, and gently traced it over America's cock, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of the other shuddering at the sensation of friction mixed with small pricks of pain. He pushed America's pants and boxers lower, allowing his partner's erection to stand tall, and raised his hand holding the knife, carefully pressing the tip of the blade to the slit.

America's hands gripped wildly for the sheets and he tilted his head back, gasping for breath around a sharp moan. His vision went splotchy with white and he choked on Arthur's name as the other gave the knife a small turn, tears stinging his eyes and chest heaving for breath.

Arthur withdrew the knife and held it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the precum on the tip of the blade. Smirking softly, the Englishman lowered the knife again, holding the handle up and pressing the side of the blade vertically to America's shaft. He wrapped his fingers around the blade and his partner's cock, giving a firm, but cautious stroke.

The younger nation cried out, making Arthur stop mid caress. America shook his head and swallowed thickly, breathing deeply between his words. "Don't... stop, Arthur...! I-It feels... so good-!"

That was all Arthur needed to hear and he tightened his fingers around America's cock and the knife, holding them firmly together as he quickened his pace. He shivered slightly, feeling the teeth of the knife biting against his palm, and rocked his hips forward in time with the rhythm, grinding his own clothed erection into America's inner thigh.

America rocked his hips against Arthur's, wincing slightly as the knife scraped against his shaft, but he was so close to completion that he didn't care anymore. Each thrust, each needle of pain that shot through him brought him closer and closer, making everything faster, tighter, hotter-

"_Arthur_!" He gasped breathlessly, the next roll of his hips pushing him to release.

Arthur slowed his strokes, letting his partner ride out his orgasm, then moved his hand away, taking the knife with it. He brought the blade to his mouth and licked along the metal, tasting both America's cum as well as his blood, and sighed with satisfaction, the taste absolutely euphoric to him. He licked the knife clean, gasping slightly as he nicked his tongue in his greed, and set the blade to the side.

Sliding off the side of the bed, Arthur walked awkwardly over to the bedside table, opening the drawer and fishing around for a container of lube. "Pants off, love." Arthur said over his shoulder, tossing the lube onto the bed beside the knife and stripping himself of his clothes, taking his time to let the American recover. Only at the sound of America kicking his pants and boxers off the side of the bed did Arthur lower his own, his shirt already thrown to the floor a few feet away.

Arthur returned to the bed, straddling America and leaning over to catch his lips with a passionate, demanding kiss. He pushed his tongue into the other's mouth, feeling his partner's hand grabbing tightly at his light beige hair. Arthur pushed his hips to America's, brushing their erections together, a sensation that had him breaking the kiss quicker than he intended, and he moaned his partner's name.

"Gonna... stick it in me... or what, Artie...?" America panted, his free hand sliding up Arthur's chest and rolling a nipple between two fingers.

"Mh... keep that up, love... and I really _will_ stick you with 'something'...~" Arthur's eyes swirled as he glanced over at the knife, his sight trained on the blade for a second or two before he grabbed the container of lube, a bit of the substance dripping off of his hand in his eagerness, falling on America's chest.

The younger nation let out a startled sound at the sudden wet coolness, squirming a little. He was just as eager as Arthur and spread his legs to show it, his renewed erection bobbing as he moved. It wasn't the intrusion of the first finger that had America's feet digging into the bed, but the smooth coolness of the lube that sent chills down his spine, pulsing straight to his cock. He moved his other hand up to Arthur's neglected nipple, flicking them in unison as he pushed his finger deeper.

"O-Oh... love...~" Arthur forced his eyes to stay open, visibly devouring the sight of his partner below, and slowly rolled his cock against America, the leaking precum dampening his skin. He awkwardly shouldered one of the American's legs, giving him a better angle as he slipped in a second finger, the unexpected tightness making Arthur snap his hips forward, bucking hard into the other.

America's head lolled from side to side as one word passes his lips- slowly and softly, but gradually building with the burning lust and impatience. "M-More..." He gasped, his eyes half lidded as they met Arthur's. He repeated the word, begging, and thrust his hips forward, burying his partner's fingers inside of him.

Arthur nodded quickly and turned his hand slightly, angling his fingers as he spread them within the other. He repeated the motion a few more times before impatience and need took full control, and he pulled his hand back, America shuddering from the sudden absence. In a quick and sloppy motion, the Englishman lubed his achingly hard cock and pushed himself in, all pretense and caution thrown to the wind to satisfy his burning need.

America jerked his head up, a sharp cry splitting the air as his hands flew to Arthur's back, nails scoring deep, scarlet marks on pale skin. The one word he desperately clung to was replaced with another- the breathless call of his partner's name.

Sheathing himself deeply within the younger nation, Arthur made a shaky grab for the knife, his vision blurred as he pressed it right against America's throat, applying a near dangerous amount of force in his euphoria, and thrusting so that with every moment, the teeth of the knife bit deeper into his partner's skin.

The reaction was just as both wanted it to be- America tightened himself around Arthur's cock at the sensation, spots of white dappling his vision as pain and pleasure washed over him from above and below, both elations warring within his sensitive body.

"B-Beautiful... so... beautiful, love..." Arthur murmured shakily, the sight of fresh blood trailing along America's neck making his cock pulse within him, signaling his release. "I-I'm so... a-almost... Alfred!" He straightened his back, roughly pulling the knife away and holding it high.

Arthur's vision went white and static sounded in his ears. He barely rendered the high of orgasm, nor the sudden wetness of America's cum on his chest and stomach. What he did feel was the movement of his hand, desperately clutching the knife as it was driven forward with a speed he couldn't stop.

The sensations of release slammed into him and Arthur's eyes shut tight as the blade was imbedded into something directly in front of him.

Arthur's heartbeat felt like it was caught in his throat. He didn't dare move his hand from the knife. He didn't dare open his eyes to see what had happened. It wasn't until after what seemed like an eternity, a hand gently cupped the side of his face, and he cautiously looked down on his partner.

"You missed." America grinned, a fresh gash sliced across his cheek, but no worse for the wear with the blade harmlessly imbedded to the hilt in the mattress. He raised an eyebrow and eyed the knife, letting out a low whistle. "Cutting it a little close there, Artie. Literally. Guess it's your turn to buy some new sheets this time!"

Arthur interrupted his partner's fit of laughter by quickly pulling out, a smug smile of his own lighting his face as America choked on a moan. He pulled the knife up and moved it further away just as the American's arms snaked around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace.

"Masochist." The Englishman muttered, kissing along the freshest of the knife wounds lining America's neck.

"Guilty as charged!" He replied, a little _too_ chipper at the confession as he stroked the stinging scratch marks on his partner's back for a minute or two before breaking the silence. "Soooo... since sex usually makes me hungry-"

"Everything makes you hungry, Alfred." Arthur put in.

"Since everything makes me hungry," America started again, chuckling at the statement's truth. "How 'bout some of those cupcakes~?"

"Right-o, then~" Arthur couldn't help but smile softly at the other and leaned down to kiss him gently. He slipped out of America's arms and off the bed, picking up his partner's shirt and pulling it on, the hem reaching to just below his thighs. "Meet you in the kitchen in ten, dear."

America listened to Arthur's fading footsteps before moving a hand across the bed, his fingers bumping into the knife before wrapping around the handle. He brought the blade to eyelevel, the steel stained with smudges from Arthur's tongue. America shivered as he recalled the image of his partner licking enthusiastically at the knife, and he tucked it under the mattress again for later use.

"Masochistic to a fault, even." The American murmured to himself as he slipped his pants on and made his way to the kitchen.


End file.
